Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,48

wearing a smile, I knew I’d crossed some invisible line. “Not sure much showering would go on, maybe some other time. You wanna go first?”

It was an offer I wasn’t excited about accepting, not wanting to push an issue I didn’t really understand. So instead of just asking her, putting whatever crazy ideas out of my head, I shrugged and told her she should go, and I’d get one at my place.

Tibbs had already messaged three times looking for me and I hadn’t responded. And if I hadn’t occasionally been known to spend the night with a girl and not check in, he might have been worried. So while he hadn’t put a trace on my phone just yet, looking to locate me, I had a hunch there would be questions when I eventually got in.

“Baby, I’m going to head home.” I grabbed my clothes and tossed them on, the redress not taking long since I was no longer distracted. “Text me if you need anything, and I’ll be back Thursday morning.”

Her head popped out from her bathroom door, the frosted glass hiding her beautiful body. “Okay, be careful out there and I give you permission to wake me with sex when you get in. Seriously, Jared, if you’re not going down on me when I open my eyes, I’ll be disappointed.”

“Not a difficult promise to make, Presley.” I swallowed hard, wanting to take her up on the offer right the hell then. I was still hard from the abandoned blowjob and needed very little encouragement. But she was right, we both needed sleep and leaving wasn’t going to get any easier. “You be careful too.”

Reluctantly I left Presley’s loft, taking the short drive to the apartment I shared with Tibbs. He’d be awake for sure, probably about a minute or two away from calling the chief to see if anyone had seen me.

“Jesus, Leighton, between you and my sister, not sure which of you is giving me the bigger headache. You want to answer your phone once in a while?”

Predictably he was annoyed, me going off radar for so long, not the usual. “Sorry, forgot to charge it,” I lied. “Anything I should know about?”

“You first. Where the hell were you?” He glared at me, and part of me was worried he’d figured it out. After all, he knew I was driving Presley home . . . might not be a stretch to assume I didn’t leave.

“I was with someone,” I hedged, not willing to volunteer anything but not wanting to dig the hole too deep. “Things got a little intense, so I stayed the night.”

Again, nothing out of the ordinary. While Tibbs occasionally did one-night stand drive-bys, I tended to stick around a little longer.

“So, what? You drove Presley home and then went and hooked up?” He scratched his head, completely oblivious that was exactly how it happened. Only thing he hadn’t clued in on, that there wasn’t another girl involved.

“Yes. I dropped Presley home, checked her apartment and then . . .” I left the sentence trailing, part of me feeling guilty I was deliberately being cagey.

He shrugged, usually not giving a shit about my sex life one way or the other. “Is that why you weren’t into the girl at the bar? You got someone on the regular?”

“I’m hoping so, but it’s early days. You know how it is.”

It had been a while since we’d had girlfriends and it wasn’t just the hours. Girls liked the uniform, the fanfare that went with it, and some even got off on the hero bullshit. Not too proud to admit I’d capitalized on it in my time, happy to accept the bountiful gifts the service gave me. But long term, it wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. There were missed birthdays or anniversaries, and times when all you wanted to do on your day off was crash for a solid ten hours. And it wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait around for the scraps you could maybe offer them.

That wasn’t even taking into account the worry, the idea that when that alarm sounded sometimes not everyone would make it home. Fuck, it wasn’t even just the fires. I’d had a gun pulled on me more than once, the last time three weeks ago attending a head on collision. The driver was obviously high, waving his 45 around and resisting medical assistance despite us needing to cut him out of his goddamn car. So yeah, a relationship was a